


The Art of Seduction

by feralphoenix



Category: Yggdra Union
Genre: F/M, First Time, The Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralphoenix/pseuds/feralphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylier is ready. Kylier is far past ready. Kylier has been ready for the past six months. But she's not getting anywhere. What are you supposed to do when your boyfriend just won't take a hint?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Seduction

Just what _were_ you supposed to do, Kylier wondered, when you happened to be in love with someone who was so brick stupid sometimes you just wanted to throttle him?

Obviously the answer wasn’t “throttle him”—especially since that way you wouldn’t get what you wanted. But things had gone on for so long that Kylier just had no idea what she was supposed to do anymore.

Okay, so things weren’t as bad as they’d been before. Last year, Milanor hadn’t had a clue in his silly head that Kylier had a thing for him, and she’d had no idea whether he cared about her in a more-than-friendly way. Since the end of the war, things had come around to a stumbling and awkward confession and then the even more stumbling and awkward transition from “best friends” to “boyfriend/girlfriend”. But it wasn’t as awkward anymore. She could reach out and take his hand without either one of them being surprised or embarrassed. They’d experimented with kissing enough that they were both reasonably good at it now. Milanor actually noticed when she got jealous and reassured her that she was cuter than all the other girls he knew and talked to. They had dinner and talked about their day a couple times each week.

And headed their separate ways to bed.

That was the part that had Kylier losing her mind. They’d known each other for _how_ many years, and they’d been going out for _how_ many months? And yet for some reason, she was still a virgin! She’d tried to get him to pick up on the fact that she was ready to change that, but of course Milanor’s innate stupidity when it came to all things female _had_ to choose now to rise back up in full force.

Kylier had to work very, very hard at resisting the urge to kick his ass.

“I mean, how the hell am I supposed to get him to grab a clue?” she complained one night after the typically unromantic end to their dinner. Instead of heading back to her room, she’d stomped through the halls to Nessiah’s—and he’d been alone, so she was now lying on his bed and gesturing violently at the ceiling. “How obvious do I have to _be?_ Should I stalk him to the frigging hot spring and attack him in the changing room? Should I lock us in my room and do a striptease? Maybe I should just wear a big ‘Let’s fuck!’ sign to our next date. God, I don’t know anymore.”

“I’m not entirely sure Milanor can even read,” was all Nessiah said. Kylier scowled and threw a pillow at him.

“Some help you are, buddy.”

“You shouldn’t be coming to me if you _want_ help,” Nessiah told her pointedly. “I hate the boy, and the feeling is very, very mutual; I’ve always had trouble understanding what it is you see in him and I _still_ think you could do much better.”

“Yeah, but you can at least have a _little_ pity on me, can’t you?” Kylier complained, sitting up and hugging her knees. “Dammit, I just don’t get how you can come at every relationship you’ve ever had so ass-backwards and _still_ manage to get more action than me. Not that you haven’t had your own hurdles to get over, but at least you never had to deal with someone _this_ oblivious.”

Nessiah threw up his hands. “Taking second place _only_ to Milanor in a contest of relationship stupidity, I _do_ swear. Honestly, the only reason Milanor wins is the fact that Gulcasa was holding back out of fear he’d hurt me.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you don’t have to _gloat_ about it.” Kylier was happy for Nessiah, she really was—it had taken him so damn long to have anything _remotely_ close to the courage to have a normal relationship with somebody—but she couldn’t help but feel like he was enjoying the opportunity to get revenge for the way she’d teased _him_ for months about his love-life woes.

“If you truly are serious about this… I’d suggest asking the _women_ for aid,” Nessiah told her pointedly, as though recommending the obvious. “Honestly, I doubt I could help you anyway. I’ve never had to chase after anyone—either they chased me, or circumstances shoved us at each other. Now, I _do_ have a lover’s bed to visit tonight—or I could always blow that off if you’d prefer to have a sounding board for your complaints about Milanor’s stupidity? I never get tired of _that,_ after all.”

Kylier groaned. “Go, shoo, dammit. Go get laid. It’s not fair for you to miss out just ‘cause I had the crappy luck to fall for a moron.”

“If you’re sure.” Nessiah smirked and left her there, jealous and nettled as ever.

\- - -

“…And so you decided to come to us?” Rosary asked over lunch, sipping apple juice and arching one elegant eyebrow.

Kylier scowled and crossed her arms. “Should I _not_ have?” she demanded.

“We’ll be glad to help,” Mistel soothed, reaching across the table to pat her shoulder. “Won’t we, Rosary?” The witch rolled her eyes, nodded, and took another sip. “It’s just interesting that you’ve chosen to ask for help from us instead of Yggdra.”

“Yggdra tops the list of relationship-clueless _women_ I know,” Kylier retorted firmly. “Yeah, she’s my friend and all, but somehow I don’t see her being of much help here. ‘Sides, she’s got her own issues to deal with.”

“Still, why _us?”_ Rosary pressed, her brow now furrowing suspiciously. “There are plenty of women around who’d be happy to help you get laid.”

Kylier made a face at her. “Yeah, but you two are the most experienced out of everybody who’s ever had to go chasing after somebody. I want advice I can trust.”

“The most _experienced?_ I’m not sure that’s really a compliment.”

“Neither am I,” Kylier drawled. “So? Either of you got any bright ideas?”

Rosary took another sip of her apple juice. “How about _being proactive_ about it? If you want to bang him, then bang him—to put it simply. If you just wait for sex to miraculously happen, I’ve got a news flash for you—it won’t. Men are stupid. Even the best ones tend to underestimate just how horny a woman can get, and Milanor is one of the stupidest out there, so subtlety will be lost on him. If you really want him that bad, then haul him up to your room and rip his clothes off, then yours. He’ll get the idea then.”

Kylier scowled at her, embarrassed. “That’s… not really gonna work. And that’s not how I want things to start with Milanor, anyway.” She’d joked about it with Nessiah, but she didn’t think she could ever be that blunt or crass about sex—at least not unless she’d already started sleeping with someone.

“Hmph. Well, it’s not like changing the way you dress is gonna tip him off—you can’t really increase the amount of skin you’re showing unless you want to run around in your underwear,” Rosary said blandly. “Besides, you’d need something to show off first…”

Kylier growled and kicked Rosary under the table. “This is about Milanor being a moron, _not_ my breastband size, you dumb Rosary!”

“Now, now.” Mistel waved her hands at the two of them, quieting Rosary’s snicker. “A direct approach of some kind _would_ probably be best, since it _is_ Milanor we’re talking about. How much exactly have you two spoken of sex?”

“Not at all,” Kylier admitted with a groan. “I don’t think he’s ever even thought of it yet.”

“If he’s _alive,_ he’s thought of it,” Rosary assured her loftily. “And if he’s _male,_ you can bet he’s done a hell of a lot more than _think,_ I’ll tell you that right now.”

“Don’t be gross,” she grumbled, covering her face to block out Rosary’s leer and keep her from seeing the color rising to her cheeks. Not for the first time, she blessed her Vanir heritage—blushes didn’t show quite so well with her skin tone as they did for her friends.

“Don’t be a _prude,”_ Rosary needled, reaching across the table to give Kylier a good poke. “There’s no reason to get all embarrassed on us—knowing you and going by how _frustrated_ you are, you’ve probably done a hell of a lot more than think, too.”

“None of your beeswax,” Kylier snapped much more hotly, punctuating the words with another kick. Rosary just smiled and didn’t say anything.

“All this talk of fantasies aside,” Mistel interrupted, her expression and tone both mild, “do you have any plans for what you want to do? If you aren’t comfortable with initiating sexual contact on your own, you could always try talking to Milanor about it.”

“But wouldn’t that be, like… _really_ awkward?”

“It’s not like you have to be all, ‘Do me, baby!’,” Rosary pointed out, raising an eyebrow. _“He_ might not be ready for this, for all you know.”

Kylier stared blankly at her. “But we’ve known each other for years and we’ve been going out for _months._ Besides—” and she looked evasively away, pulling a face “—it’s not like _he’s_ the one who’s gonna have to be… you know.”

Mistel giggled. “True, but then there is the reverse— _you_ won’t have to put a sensitive part of your anatomy in someone else’s body, will you? Men do have their worries, too.”

“Besides, it may still be weird for him, thinking about jumping his childhood friend,” Rosary pointed out. “He _did_ use to think of you as practically one of the guys…”

“…I really shouldn’t have come to you with this, should I…? Either start being helpful or forget it, will you…?”

“Fine, fine.” Rosary threw her hands up and sighed. “Well, since you’re too shy to actually talk about the horizontal tango to his face, why not remind him that even though the boobs are small, you’ve still got ‘em?” When Kylier glowered at her, the witch laughed. “Wardrobe malfunction? It wouldn’t be too hard to slip that tiny little jacket of yours down to show him what you are or aren’t wearing underneath it.”

“I’m not going to _flash_ him! Jeez!”

“No? Well, then, you could always hold on a little harder if you’re grabbing his arm when you walk together. Hard not to notice something that’s getting squished into you.”

“That won’t turn him on, it’ll just embarrass him!”

“Or you can always do it Roswell’s way and deep-throat a goddamn Banango in front of him,” Rosary continued, raising an eyebrow and smirking. When Kylier opened her mouth to squawk, she sighed. “I was joking. Or mostly, anyhow.”

“You—you stupid, stupid Rosary!! I don’t wanna give the impression I’d do _that_ on our first time, jeez! You’re _so_ gross.”

Rosary just leered at her. “Well, if you ever want lessons…”

Kylier closed her eyes, covered her face with both hands, and ground their heels against her eyelids. “Oh, gods. I do not want that mental image. Ew. Ew. Ewww. Please tell me there’s a way to sear that out of my brain.”

Rosary snickered, and Mistel made “now, now” sounds as a hand patted the top of Kylier’s head.

Once it lifted away, Kylier pulled her hands away from her face, and squinted through the brilliant lights dancing across her vision until it cleared. “…Seriously. _Should_ I go and ask somebody else? Try to find Flone or something? If you guys really don’t wanna help out…”

Mistel opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Rosary shrugged and cut her off, playing with a silky tuft of her honey-colored hair. “Most of my advice _was_ serious.” She even sounded put off. “If I want a man in my bed, I make sure he knows in no uncertain terms—if I don’t ask him straight out, it’s easier to get him aroused first and then make off with him to some private alcove. The only other thing I’d really _suggest_ is that you take Milanor to some romantic and suggestive setting—your bedroom or his—and start talking about some other couple, and innocently segue into sex. Like, talk about somebody’s kinks, and wonder what some of his are. And once you have the talk going, you check surreptitiously for any activity in the general area of his lap. Then if he tries to get away, make with smooches and groping and all those good things. It’s got a fairly good chance of landing you in bed.”

Kylier sighed and slumped where she sat, resting her forehead on her palms. “There are so many problems with that I don’t even know _where_ to start, ugh. I don’t know if I can… talk about that stuff as easy as you can, yet. It’s embarrassing. And the question’s still… if that’d go over Milanor’s head, after all…”

She loved him, but even she had to admit he was really stupid when it came to this. Especially with all the damn time it was taking.

“The plan actually isn’t that bad,” Mistel said slowly. “Why, it simply needs a little sprucing up, and it’ll be perfect. Rosary? Would you be interested in setting up a good romantic place?”

Both Kylier and Rosary looked at her curiously.

“It’s not like I’d mind… but what do you have in mind, here?”

Mistel waved a fingertip and rested her cheek on her hand, smiling at Kylier. “Now, Kylier dear. When would you like us to put this plan in action?”

She had to blink, taken aback. “Any old time is fine—sooner, the better.”

“We can do it today, if you’d like.”

Kylier blinked again. And stared. A hard knot formed in her belly, her heart started fluttering, and she felt a kind of twitching pulse between her legs.

“I wouldn’t complain if you could,” she replied honestly, without even thinking. And felt her cheeks heat up as she realized what this would mean if the other women’s no doubt harebrained scheme actually worked.

Mistel giggled, patted Rosary’s shoulder, and stood up. “Then, come with me. We can leave your room to Rosary—I’ll help you get ready.”

\- - -

“Isn’t this a little too… I dunno, babyish-looking?” Kylier protested as Mistel held up the gauzy white shift, measuring it against her by eye. “If the message is ‘please jump me’, then shouldn’t I be wearing something a little sexier?”

“There are certain subtleties that are always guaranteed to work, no matter how unused a man is to noticing them,” was Mistel’s reply. “Out of those clothes, now. _Everything_ off—except your pregnancy-prevention charm. Be grateful your breasts aren’t bigger—because they’re this size, you’ll be able to wear this dress without a breastband.”

Kylier hesitated for a moment, then scowled at herself and thought, _Do I want this or not?_ Determined, she set about stripping—it was just her and Mistel, anyway, and the door was locked pretty firmly. Even Rosary wouldn’t intrude—it’d been a good idea to have her set up the room.

Mistel helped her into the shift and began to button it, ignoring the top one and the bottom three so that it hung open to just above Kylier’s breasts and was closed just down to her knees and no further.

“The picture we’re painting here is of innocence on the verge,” Mistel told her with a smile. “There’s power in an image like that. You’re ready for him, even if he doesn’t understand it on a conscious level yet. And with this many buttons undone—well, he’ll have no choice but to wonder what’s underneath.”

Kylier thought about it, and nodded.

“We’ve still got a while yet before the room will be ready.” Looking around, Mistel drew up a chair and sat, gesturing for Kylier to do the same. “Since that’s the case, I suppose you and I should talk a little, and make sure you’re prepared for what’s going to happen.”

Kylier said nothing. She’d read healers’ books—and the occasional novel. She knew the basics of how it worked, but that didn’t seem to be what Mistel was talking about.

“Your safety, of course, comes first. I’m sure you’ll have heard by now that there are charms and barriers men can use, to prevent burdening their lovers with pregnancy—or with illnesses. Neither of you has bedded anyone before, so you don’t need to worry about being sick, and you’ve had that pendant since you started plotting, which means he can’t get you with child. As long as you two are sleeping together, you mustn’t take it off, you understand? Once is enough.”

 _I know all that,_ Kylier wanted to snap, but she just shrugged and sighed. “Well, if once wasn’t enough, the world as we know it today wouldn’t exist—way back when, with Paltina… well, she only ever touched Ness once, and he stayed miles away from her after, and she still had a baby from _that.”_

“It’s good you’re aware of the technicalities,” Mistel said with a gentle smile. She reached out and laid her hands over Kylier’s. “Since you’ve lived with all of us, and are close to many of us who have lovers, you’ve surely heard a great many people talk of sex and how good it feels. It’s very rarely like that the first time, especially when you and your partner aren’t experienced. Chances are that it will hurt a bit at first, and for the first few times—oh, until you and Milanor really start to learn each other’s bodies, I’d say—you probably won’t experience orgasm. He always will, but that’s the way the act is built, I’m afraid. Things will improve with practice; you love each other, so just keep at it.”

Thoughtfully, Kylier nodded. “Some of that I knew—some I guessed, and some nobody’d ever told me.” She grimaced a little. “It’s not really something you talk about with your mom when she sits you down to say how babies get made.”

That made Mistel laugh. “No, I don’t suppose it is. But I think it’s better to know beforehand—from my own experience and that of others I’ve known, the first time can be very disappointing if you aren’t aware. It’s an important event in your life, so it should be sweet and romantic.” She eased back in her seat. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask, or have confirmed?”

“It tires you out, right?” _Getting a lot of practice in early would be nice, but…_

“Climax does, yes. Men more so than women—although their bodies aren’t as sensitive as ours, they usually have much more muscle, and orgasm causes muscle contractions and then relaxes them. After one or two times, even a man with some amount of skill usually can’t be expected to perform again right away. Milanor will likely fall asleep, afterwards. Women, on the other hand, can stand about twenty or so before they’re knocked out—which is why you’ll hear that when a competent man takes a woman to his bed, he’s expected to pleasure her thoroughly before they engage in sex itself.”

“That makes sense.” Kylier squared her shoulders. “Thanks for explaining stuff more, and for the outfit. I think I can handle things from here.”

Mistel nodded. “There’s a girl. Now you’ve an idea what you’re about, don’t hold back—go seduce your man.”

\- - -

Rosary had done a nice job with the room, Kylier was forced to admit as Milanor sat down beside her. She’d moved the bed back a little, but the way she’d pulled at its curtains made it really, _really_ obvious and inviting-looking. She couldn’t help sneaking little glances at it, and once or twice she thought she caught Milanor looking the same way.

The wine, too—Kylier hadn’t thought about that either. Rosary had said it was mandatory for getting laid, then had grinned and confessed in a low voice that _her_ first time, she’d had to be careful not to get plastered. Wine was romantic and they _did_ call alcohol liquid courage for a reason, didn’t they? She should take advantage of it. With that, Rosary had patted her shoulder and sauntered off.

Milanor had looked a little confused when she offered him a glass, but had shrugged—oh well, booze was booze—and was gesturing with his half-empty flute as he regaled her with his latest tale of misadventure in the castle.

Kylier listened and laughed, but on the inside she was just a tight ball of nerves. Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty, and she was glad she didn’t have to say anything because she didn’t know what she would say.

She sipped at her wine, hoping that it really would make her a little braver, as Rosary had said it would. God, was she really ready for this? She was only eighteen, and the unanimous “it’s going to hurt” she’d gotten from everyone she’d talked to was a little scary. More than a little. Maybe she should wait, not press Milanor, let him figure it out on his own.

 _But I’ll be thirty by the time he actually figures it out,_ she reminded herself. _Besides, I want this. I do. I swear I’m not leaving this room a virgin. If I have to tie him down and have my way with him—well—that’s what I’ll do._ And she giggled a little to herself, unable to help it.

She would never be able to remember how the rest of Milanor’s story had gone; she only knew it had been predictably silly and that she’d laughed until she felt tears starting. She knew she set her wineglass down; she knew that Milanor had put his on the floor. And then his arms were around her and his mouth was on hers.

This part she knew; this part didn’t make her nervous as much. She held him hard, tightening her hands in his hair, overly aware of every place they touched, particularly her breasts and belly flat against him. Her heart was hammering fit to burst, and the tangling of lips and tongue between them was desperate. His hands went through her hair and up her back, and she pressed against him as she vibrated, and then he was cupping her breasts.

The next moment he broke the kiss, his face bright red. “Oh, uh—I’m—shit—I didn’t mean, I just kinda—”

Realizing where this was going, Kylier took her hands out of his hair and clapped them over his before he could move them. “Don’t you dare stop,” she told him. “I’m gonna murder your stupid ass if you stop.”

“But we can’t, like this—what if…” He pulled his hands free and gestured awkwardly, apparently lost for words.

“I have—” Lifting her right hand, she fumbled for her pendant and held up the little gold charm. “See? See? It’s okay. Just, for the love of God, don’t stop touching me. Don’t ever stop.”

He looked like he wanted to argue back, so she leaned in and kissed him, and he made a frustrated sound but plunged back against her, his hands tight on her breasts through the thin dress and then moving back down her body. Wondering a little if she’d gone crazy, she fumbled with the ties of his clothes until they gave, and pushed him back so he could shuck his tunic and fight with his breeches. He turned his fingers to her buttons before she could really get a good look at his body, and before he had all the buttons loose, he scooped her up and placed her very, very gently on the bed.

A little of her nervousness eased as her heart warmed at the sweetness of the gesture, and she couldn’t help but smile as his eyes went wide to see she wasn’t wearing anything but the dress.

He leaned over her and kissed her lips, then the side of her neck, then on her chest just above her left breast. She gripped his shoulders and shivered.

“I’m scared silly,” she confessed with the hint of a giggle.

“I kinda—am too,” he whispered back, still bright red as he looked away.

He covered her body with his and kissed her, just kissed her, as she grabbed his shoulders hard and she trembled and trembled. She couldn’t help being afraid of his touch, but she didn’t see how much longer she’d be able to live without it. His chest was brushed against her breasts, just a light pressure on her nipples, but that and the slick motion of their tongues entwining was driving her insane. His hands had fallen into the open dress and were settled on her hips. After a few more moments, he sat up a little and she spread her thighs a little, and he looked down and didn’t look back up again, apparently transfixed.

…Uh. He was staring at her in a place that—nobody ever really looked at. Kylier fidgeted and was about to cover herself up angrily when he actually moved his hand towards her hesitantly.

“So girls—really do get wet too, huh,” he said absently, and grazed her with a fingertip. Her flesh jumped, and she squirmed with a whimper.

“That—tickles,” she managed to pant, complaining to cover up her embarrassment. And kept fidgeting when he touched her more and more firmly, the contact making slick noises. Oh gods, her face was probably on _fire_ by now. “Uh—um, Milanor.”

“Huh?”

“If you’re gonna—” With an effort, Kylier cleared her throat, then looked away. “You kinda hafta… put one in.”

“Wha—oh yeah. I was gettin’ to it,” he muttered, sounding even more flustered than her. And he played his fingers around between her legs in ways that made her want to wiggle, but just before she was about to decide to herself that he had no idea what he was doing, something was pushed inside her.

She tensed and grabbed the sheets with both hands; it was a shock to her body, and it kind of hurt. His fingers were an awful lot bigger and thicker than hers, she thought dazedly as he felt the inside of her body, every little touch a fresh sensation of ticklish discomfortpleasurepain that she couldn’t keep up with.

“I think—this’s good,” he said eventually (how long had that been? Her sense of time had fuzzed out for a while there), and suddenly the weird contact was broken and Milanor was carefully hitching her legs up around his waist. His hand—the dry one—found hers, and he got a look of concentration on his face. Something very hot and very wet touched her, and she jumped a little again—understanding rushed her like the blood to her cheeks and as he pushed against her, Kylier tried to sit up on her elbows—she hadn’t even _seen_ his cock yet and he was already…, for some reason she wanted to watch—

She yelped a little as her flesh was pushed open fast and hard, her muscles protesting like the violent ache she’d had the day after she first rode a griffon, or like the first day she bled as a woman—but so much more immediate and painful. That wasn’t too bad in and of itself—she’d had battle wounds that hurt more—but something inside her was stinging too, like a scratch or a papercut, and it even brought tears to her eyes. Through it all she felt the bewildering size and heat of Milanor inside her (her brain repeated it giddily again and again, _Milanor inside me Milanor inside me_ ) and she was suddenly so weak she almost collapsed.

Above her, Milanor was shuddering, his breath huffing sharply and his eyes squeezed shut almost like he was in pain. Dizzily, she let her gaze slip down his heaving chest to where their bodies were connected, the darker folds of her skin parted wetly around something deeply red that she could barely see, already engulfed by her body.

“You’re… all the way… inside me…,” she said aloud, stupidly; she couldn’t get her mind off the hurt or her eyes off the joint of them.

“Kylier, I—gotta—” Milanor managed, and the hand that wasn’t clutching hers seized her hip. As she fell back to the sheets, his body started slamming into her.

She almost yelped again. “Mila—not so—” she tried to complain, but her voice was too faint to reach him. He was moving too fast, irritating her sore flesh, and it hurtithurtithurt for a while before the friction made her numb to the pain, and she lay panting and dazed as his stiff thrusts changed into a smoother, more exaggerated rocking movement.

Now that she was used to it, it actually wasn’t all that bad, Kylier thought dazedly. Milanor was touching deep ticklish parts of her, and the rubbing felt nice, like some outrageously intimate, brisk massage. But the heat that had charged through her body and made her insane with lust had ebbed considerably, and she wasn’t nearly as turned on—that pain in the beginning had shocked her out of it. Mistel was right—even though she’d heard so many people talk about sex so starry-eyed, Kylier couldn’t see herself getting off on this yet.

Milanor, though—his eyes were almost closed and his breath was rushing and he was starting to move faster, and he was even moaning a little. He leaned down until his body suddenly crushed hard against hers, the change of angle and the pressure making her arousal much more urgent; she went wet, and she realized that the thrusting motion inside her had started to feel good, not okay— _very_ good, and if he stayed pressed against her like that and just moved a little harder and went a little deeper, then maybe—

Her thoughts were multiplying and tangling until she couldn’t understand them; her hips were pumping a little along with Milanor’s as he closed his eyes and arched his back a tiny bit.

_“Ah—”_

He was panting and the mattress was shaking and the ceiling up above was getting blurry and her body bunched up—and he was rushing and something hot and fluid shot into her as he moaned and his hips slapped to hers audibly, over and over and over, and somewhere that almost-pleasure just beyond her reach just… slipped away.

Milanor’s movements gentled and subsided and he fell heavily on top of her, still breathing roughly. He was still inside her, but she couldn’t feel him as much. She was weak and a little trembly but she felt all buzzing and excited, too, like getting out of the water when she’d been swimming for hours. It hadn’t been a sunburst, or even a fire—but there’d been at least a spark. Maybe next time—when she wasn’t in pain—she wanted to try this again, and soon.

But Milanor seemed really worn out. Not tonight. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair—it was damp with sweat—and closed her eyes for a moment, sighing.

As she did, she felt Milanor ease up on his elbows and fall beside her with another creak of bedsprings. Kylier glanced at him; his expression was slack and his breathing even. He was asleep.

Kylier shifted against the sweaty sheets and felt between her legs. Her flesh was a little sore, but even though it made her feel guilty and still more embarrassed—she needed to get off; she was still painfully turned on. She closed her eyes, clamped her hand down to herself (she was so wet from it all! She almost didn’t want to think of it), and promised herself that next time, _Milanor_ would definitely be the one to make her feel this quick upjerk of painful relief.

Her hand was sticky. She wiped it—her own viscous wetness, thick white stuff, bloody streaks—against the sheets. So what if it stained. She was too tired and, well, too naked to wander the castle in search of a better way to get clean.

So she closed her eyes again and rolled onto her side, draping her arm loosely around Milanor’s waist. It was a start, a step in the right direction, and well enough, since he’d made her wait so damn long.


End file.
